In the Peace of Dormant Day

Sunday, July 29, 6:15 am

I thought I was going to get to see the sun rise this morning. There was a brief moment when all was calm and the sky was streaked with red. The whole world was filled with anticipation it seemed; and I was part of it.  But then the clouds came and covered the small, wavering rays of the new day. This happened slowly, the clouds creeping over the horizon so that I didn’t notice it right away. Now two birds are bickering outside. The moment of peace has passed and all is beginning to awaken with a clatter to the hectic realism of life. There’s always tomorrow I suppose. Maybe then I’ll be able to hold on to the ever-seeking sun for a moment longer.

This is what I saw. It is also how I felt.

Inner Beasts

In everyone there is a beast trying to get out.

Like poison;

Paralyzing inner spirit,

it attacks: A roaring, clawing manticore,

composed of lies and anger and pain.

I tried to tame it by myself.

But the only one I was fooling was me.

Sunny with a CHANCE of Rain (Or Why I Shouldn't Worry)

Some days the weatherman should look out the window. That’s what many of us may say to ourselves on the mornings when we hear their chipper voices advise that we might want to bring out an umbrella if we plan to venture forth, only to peer through the curtains and be greeted with a bright, cloudless day. Sometimes it seems they get it wrong more often than right. How many times have we been promised a big snow storm, dreaming of a snow day, and then wake up the next morning to a pitiful dusting of flurries? Or have a perfect beach day, all planned ahead of time, be ruined by a torrential downpour? But I would never blame a meteorologist. You can study data and make predictions for all you’re worth but it never guarantees a perfect forecast. It’s just a fact of life.

 I think many people’s biggest problem, myself included, is that we try too hard to see what’s ahead. We want some assurance that we’ll be prepared for what’s to come.  That’s why we worry and try to plan for the unknown. But it would never do to carry our “umbrellas” with us everywhere we go. Trying to predict what happens next only holds us back and weighs us down. It clouds our vision so to speak. If we are too intent on figuring out the forecast for our own life, we miss the beautiful day that is right in front of us.

A Matter of Perspective

When one thinks of Earth’s surface, with its jagged mountains, deep valleys, rifts, and canyons, the word ‘smooth’ hardly comes to mind. Instead, one might find "rugged and imperfect" as a more fitting description. And yet, the surface of planet Earth is proportionally smoother than a billiard ball.1 Surprising is it not? It just depends on your perspective.

Now apply the same perspective to life. Suddenly, all the things that we think define us, such as marks, talents, wealth, appearance, and popularity, matter little in proportion to the grand scheme of things. Once more, it all depends on how you look at it. For if the surface of Earth, with all its imperfections, can be viewed by our limited vision as a perfect, even sphere, how then are we viewed, with all our imperfections, through the eyes of the One whose perspective is infinite?

1 http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/badastronomy/2008/09/08/ten-things-you-dont-know-about-the-earth/#.WY_cqFF97IU

Lost Voices

By the next century, nearly half the world’s languages will die. This unfortunate truth speaks volumes about the way humanity values the wealth of knowledge culminated by its ancestors. To put it bluntly, we are willing to leave behind much of what was passed down through countless generations in the name of progress.

Every fourteen days, a language dies. Every two weeks, the voices of a multitude of memories, traditions and lessons are silenced in favour of the more hectic languages of English, Spanish and Mandarin. In a world that is already so skilled at quieting minorities, it appears language is yet another victim of our rush to assimilate and move on.  And it’s a real shame.  For there is wisdom in the words of one’s ancestors, and many phrases, proverbs and expressions are simply lost in translation.

Already many peoples’ native tongues are being decimated to feeble whispers and, by removing one’s language, the foundations of many cultures are beginning to crumble. I see it from this perspective:  When we drop a language, we lose much more than mere sounds and written letters; there is a lot that will cease to exist. For how many lessons learned will be forgotten?  How many songs will never be sung again?  Will the traditions and memories of a myriad of voices be drowned out by those that come in to replace them? That’s up to us to determine.

Some words are loudest at a whisper. But we must quiet ourselves if we are to learn from them.

This post was written in response to the article Vanishing Voices by Russ Rymer in July's issue of National Geographic.

In Stormy Weather

“

Some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.

”

                                                                                                ~ Willa Carter

The rain will often give more than just a slick, cold slap in the face. It offers short moments to ponder and quick glimpses of peace in the most surprising of circumstances. There is something about being out in a storm; sort of like standing against everything life throws at you. Sometimes I’ll go out in a good rainstorm and laugh in its face. For a fleeting moment, I’m almost content. The winds may be roaring, lightning flashing and the rain falling in torrents around me, and yet, it’s during those most chaotic moments that I feel at peace. In some way, nature understands. It’s like my mind is in turmoil but I don’t have to articulate anything. It just is and, for the moment, that is enough.  

Or at least that’s what I’m learning.

Wishes upon Hardened Sand

Today the beach offered one of Life’s great mysteries. What if we could write the burdens of our hearts upon the sand and watch the waves wash them away? Would we then be satisfied? Or would they just be buried, waiting to be rediscovered? Regrets, half-debts and unrealized dreams:  sometimes they seem to number more than the grains that make up the ocean’s shore. I’d gouge the words into the packed, damp granules, digging them deep. It would be a never-ending task, one that would threaten to consume us like any hope etched on windswept landscapes. For here we are, chasing illusive breakers, hoping to quench humanity’s thirst for redemption. And how many people are just sitting, waiting for the waves to roll in?

But true peace is found in still waters.  

A Busy Street After Rainfall

A busy street after rainfall:

Cars creating mist as they rumble through puddles.

Busy people oblivious to all that surrounds them,

Focussed on work, traffic and their impatience.

The city: a whirl of shouting, honking, rushing, and anger. 

A lone raindrop on an office window,

Struggling to remain rooted,

Drooping with the weight of its burden.

Agonizingly, it begins to

                                                drip

                                                                down

                                                                                the window pane

until it reaches the sill.

There it finally stops and clings. 

Seconds, so precious to some,

Wished away by the impatient ones.

Traffic         jerks                to            a              halt.

With a final gasp, the raindrop lets go.

A small splash on wet pavement.

Un-noticed by the busy street after rainfall.

(I'm sort of cheating here as this was written in July of 2010)

Climbing

In 1963, two American mountain climbers, Wili Unsoeld and Tom Hornbein, achieved fame, and more importantly respect, by being the first mountaineers to ever traverse a Himalayan peak. They did so on Mount Everest, the highest of them all. This year, two other men, Conrad Anker and Cory Richards, are attempting to repeat this feat. While I believe anyone who takes on Everest deserves to be noted, these two adventurers are going above and beyond (no pun intended) by attempting the West Ridge route- the most dangerous path up the infamous mountain where the probability of dying is the same as summiting.

I was reading about this in the National Geographic and it got me to thinking. All four of these climbers have purposely taken the toughest route. How often in life do we try the easiest? For everyone has their own mountain to climb. Some are mere slopes; others seem to keep growing forever.  And while there are people who can clamber over their mountains pretty quickly, many will spend their whole lives climbing. But it is better than falling.

Even the stars...

Some people are free flying, tumbling head-over-heels through life from one insubstantial thing to the next.  Others dig a little deeper and hold on, becoming more firmly rooted. Put your faith in something constant and long-lasting. Anything less is like trying to navigate a ship by the position of the clouds. But even the stars only last for billions of years.

Learning to Ride

It is often the little accomplishments one makes early during their life journey that become the most meaningful later on. Like little gems of wisdom, we lock those certain moments up and hide the treasure chest away until we have time to better ponder them.

I learned to bike when I was six. During this time I became more acquainted with the ground than I would have liked. But I kept at it that whole summer. It was a constant cycle of climbing on, balancing for a second and then down I would go. For me, taking off my training wheels was a microcosm for the whole process of growing up (and I suppose the lifelong learning that follows). You see, no one learns to fall; it is embedded in our very nature. Climbing is easy enough too. It’s the balancing that is difficult, especially when the road gets bumpy.

Look at it this way: The best thing you can do for yourself is to learn to not be ashamed of falling; just keep climbing back up. Success will come eventually. And the people on the sides of the street will cheer you on.

See you on the sidelines. J

Vision Obscured

Shame is like a red hot curtain

It wears like a heavy cloak

And with it life’s a sweltering summer

I long for winter’s white.

Small Victories

Sometimes it's the smallest things that tug at the curtains of despair and nudge you onward. I am always amazed at how even the dreariest rainy day can be transformed into a sparkling sunrise. You just have to search for the source of light. Today it was a child's pair of pink and yellow polka-dotted rain boots left out on someone's front porch. They were quickly filling with water. In my mind, they took on a life of their own, bouncing through puddles: a spraying, laughing and dancing whimsy of delight. Moments such as these are like waking from a dream. Suddenly there's a little less denial, a bit of a smile and opened eyes. Small victories. I think they're shaped like teardrops. But it's those that fill one up with joy.